


it’s haunting, oh my love (who could save one like me)

by maharieel



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/F, Halfling, List Fic, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Tiefling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 11:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11012445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharieel/pseuds/maharieel
Summary: she is bound to the patron of death, and such things can never end well.





	it’s haunting, oh my love (who could save one like me)

**Author's Note:**

> recommended listening: josella by keaten henson feat. ren ford

  * she smiles something beautiful, sunlight streaming through her hair and flowers clutched in her hands, and you wonder if this is what it means to be content
    * it’s not though, is it? to be content is to feel safe amongst your surroundings, and yet you still tremble within your own skin, still want to dig your claws under flesh and tear the thing crawling inside of you out      
      * how long has it lingered within you? how long is too long?
        * you know the you will hit the acme soon
  * no, her smile will not save you from the descent
    * you stand beside her in the field of wildflowers and peonies, the black of your skin now a bleached grey, and you pretend as if the same can be said for your soul
      * your hair’s brighter, lighter, more full of life that it ever was in that cell and it’s her deft fingers that have made it so, but a touch is superficial at best
        * at worst, it barely scrapes the surface
          * no, your soul is still charred and dead
  * you both smile and pretend as if she has cleansed you inside and out, as if you are a holy disciple like one of the statues in her temple, and for that naïve moment under the sun everything is ok
    * something pulls at you though, and you catch a glance at the forest leering in the distance, and you know He is watching from the shadows with a smile
      * you know that every step into the light makes His anger boil, burning flames that will engulf the grass upon which you stand so easily you won’t even know the white-hot flare of death
        * oh, but He will _make_ you know it before He scrapes his hooks between your shoulder blades and drags you back from the pit screaming
  * she takes your hand, scars brushing up against leather, and you wonder how long is left?
    * a laugh, the sound making the broken flesh of your heart crumble away one piece at a time, as if she knows of the dark places you wander to in the silence
      * she couldn’t know, wouldn’t know because you are her deepest secret from God and she would not taint her devoutness even for you
        * you think it might be possible to corrupt the holy even when you love them
          * you know it’s possible
  * you take her face between your calloused hands and kiss her, bending and reaching, and know that even if this love can’t save you, you will clutch it to your chest like the mourning clutch at the dead, even as you stand and wait for the fall from whatever grace you can claim to own
    * oh, how well-versed you are in it, the _clutching_ and the _waiting_ and the _yearning_
      * you think it might be your end (you think it might be hers)
        * oh, darling, it is




End file.
